The Choices You Make
by wayfaringpanda
Summary: The City Elf returns to the Alienage and is confronted with the past that was forcibly left behind.


**Summary**: The City Elf returns to the Alienage and is confronted with the past that was forcibly left behind.  
**Pairings**:Tabris/Leliana, Tabris/Shianni  
**Warnings**: This mentions rape, but there is no actual act. If there's anything else I should warn for that I haven't, let me know, but I pretty much can't think of anything else.  
**Author's Note**: See end of story.

**The Choices You Make  
**by wayfaringpanda

You walk back through those gates, the gates you thought you'd never have to go through again, and you can't help but twinge. Although you hadn't wanted to leave, hadn't wanted to abandon the life you had led, it did not feel good to be back again.

You see all the familiar places, places that still haunt your nightmares. You see the orphanage where Soris had grown up after shems slaughtered his parents. You see faces pinched with hunger and worn from constant fear. You can still smell the blood on the air, blood that must have been spilt after you left. You remember what you heard in the rest of Denerim, about how the elves had an uprising and Howe had brutally put them down.

You can feel her behind you, the woman you love. Her fire red hair and quick smile drew you in quickly, her lilting accent making her sound all the sweeter when you whisper to each other until dawn. She is uneasy, drawing as close as she dares. She knows this is part of your life, a part you once forcibly showed her she had never cared enough about to question before. But then, what shem _wants_ to know what it's really like in the Alienage?

You see the door to your home. It's so close, your old bed. You can feel the random bits of hay poking through the thick material of the mattress, can still close your eyes and reach out to touch the wooden post where you scratched your mother's name in, once you realized you were never going to see her again. You can almost smell the slightly burnt stew Father ladles out for you every night. You eat better than far too many in the Alienage, and never once do you dare ask why. Often, your cousins would eat with you, and the three young ones would take turns teasing the old man.

Walk past. Can't bear to be reminded. You're here for a job, to finish this whole wretched mess. You're so tired of it all. You're so _tired_. Alistair looks worn down too, his eyes permanently pinched, and you know the dreams you have at night are shared with him. Screaming Old God with a hint of darkspawn taint makes a terrible title for a song, but you here it almost every night now. Find Valendrian. Find out whatever it is with the Alienage that can take down Loghain. Get out. Simple, right?

Of course not. You see the elves you walk past look more frightened than usual. Some are sick, and desperately trying to hide it. All get out of your way. It's weird, because you recognize almost all of them. These are the people who watched you grow up. Who were to stand and celebrate at your wedding. Now they practically run away from you, and there is no recognition in their face. Have you really changed that much?

You go towards the vhenadahl tree, hoping to find someone nearby the common gathering place who will tell you what is going on. A part of your brain remembers the tiny garden grown, almost forgotten, that has a single plant of Andraste's Grace. It's been a while since you gave her flowers. It would be nice, after you get what you came for and return to the arl's estate, to see her eyes light up and feel her arms go around your neck as she draws you in to give you a kiss in thanks. You hope you remember to pick them.

There's a commotion over by Alarith's, and as you draw close you see where all of the elves have gone. They are gathered in front of a neighboring warehouse, a mass of seething energy waiting for an opening to throw itself through. You see what appears to be mages blocking their way, and a quick whisper from Wynne lets you know that they aren't from the Circle Tower. You push forward, trying to see if you can gather from the shouts what is going on.

Suddenly, you see _her_. You can't move, can't breathe, can't even so much as blink. _She_ stands in the midst of the crowd, fire red hair catching the midday sun, eyes snapping with anger as _she_ argues with the mages, with the elves, with everyone who gets in _her_ way. _She_ is exactly how you remember _her_.

Well, not exactly. You remember _her_ lying on the floor in the arl of Denerim's estate, clutching at the shreds of _her_ best dress, the one _she_ wore for your wedding celebration. Try as you might, you can't help but remember the blood, the bruises on _her _fair skin, the emptiness in _her_ eyes as _she_ went into shock. Soris knew how you felt, had always known, and had pushed you towards _her_, promising to look after the others.

_She _gets frustrated with trying to make everyone see reason, and turns to see you. You can tell _she_ is glad to see you, can tell by the way _her_ shoulders suddenly slump, as if _she_ no longer has to carry the weight of the world on them. _She _greets you, nodding _her_ head to your companions, eyes lingering on your lover. The others may not see it, but _she _has always been cunning, and _she _quickly susses out that no one knows your history. The look on her face when _she_ mentions your wedding is enough to tear you to emotional pieces. You try and answer her questions as best you can, all the while doing your best not to stare at _her._

But in the end, something is very wrong in the Alienage, and it seems that the only one who cares that several elves have disappeared. Your father is with them, wherever they've gone, and you can't not help. There have been questions before on this long journey of helping, but not this time. Not when _she _is willing to give up _her_ strong front and tell you that _she_ needs your help.

_She_ has always needed your help, if only for the joy of having you come rescue _her_. If only _she _had known how badly you had always needed to be the one who saved _her_.

The entire time you spend fighting Tevinter magi and guards, none of your companions talk of anything but the task at hand. They are all strangely silent, this crew you've gathered around you. It's a bit unsettling, but you find you don't have a lot of time to figure out why. Although it bothers you that your lover, your bard, is the quietest. She just looks at you when she can, a mixture of understanding and fear and sorrow, smothered in self-sacrifice. You don't have the time to sooth her feelings, because to do that would require you to sort out your own, first.

You can't help but practically crush Father when you see him. He seems so frail now, so much smaller than you remember last. He greets you with obvious joy, and doesn't even bat an eye when you introduce him to your three shem friends. If he only knew of what you had waiting back at Eamon's residence. The look he gives you when he sees her, though, lets you know that he is comparing her with _her_, and if it frightens her a bit, it absolutely terrifies you. But he says nothing, and after a moment you realize he never will. You love Father, but he had always purposefully turned a blind eye to your feelings for _her_. The only difference now was that you were no longer a child, but a Grey Warden. He knew you needed no opinion on the matter from him.

When you return to the vhenadahl, _she_ is waiting for you, and the look on _her _face is strange. _Her_ thanks are strangely stiff, and _she _proves that _she_ still manipulate you with ease as _she_ brings the conversation to a quick conclusion. The ring _she _places in your hand still radiates the warmth from _her_ nervous palm as _she _disappears around a corner.

She is looking at you, watching as you stare at the ring. You can feel her gaze, and you want nothing more than to convince her that everything is okay. As you slip the ring onto your finger, though, you know that the only thing you can do to prove that you are hers is walk out of the Alienage, walk away from everything you had ever known for a second time. Walk away from _her_.

So you do, and it fills your heart with quiet joy when she slips her hand into yours as you leave your past behind.

* * *

**Author's Note: **This idea had been bouncing around in my head for several days now, since I randomly decided to start a new City Elf game. I just remember getting to the end of the origin and thinking, "Wow. I'm pretty sure my elf is in love with Shianni." I tried to ignore the plot bunny and work on what I'm supposed to be working on, but that of course failed. The backlash of that being, of course, that I ended up writing this in second person of all things. I've never done that before. Anyway, I apologize if it got a bit confusing with the"her" and "_her" _thing, but I really felt like I had very little control over the connection between my muse and my fingertips, so much as I kept wanting to use their names I just couldn't do it. If it really is too confusing, though, I might try and hammer the story to make it work with names, so feel free to let me know.


End file.
